A Holiday
by lilkyonkyon
Summary: It's just another weekend holiday at Hogwarts... except that things are getting a little interesting. Rated for innuendo. Implied RWHG. Kind of a crazy story. Oneshot. Further summary inside.


**Title:** A Holiday

**Setting:** Hogwarts, Second Year; Autumn

**Summary:** During a weekend at Hogwarts, things get a little crazy, and dark secrets are discovered. _Hilarious_, dark secrets.

**Disclaimer: **Yo no tengo Harry Potter.

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**A Holiday**

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**Harry Potter**

It had been a fine day of Quiddich practice for Harry. Today had been the first time he caught the snitch more times than the Chasers had scored, a huge feat that Wood said had never happened since he had been at Hogwarts. He also added that it was safe to assume it hadn't happened too often before then, either.

With a huge smile on his face, Harry clambered up the staircase towards the common room. He, Ron and Hermione were going to meet there so they could go to lunch together. As he was rounding the corner, though, he suddenly caught sight of Draco Malfoy examining a suit of armor.

"Oh no," Harry moaned, ducking behind a nearby pillar. The last thing he wanted to do right now was ruin his good day by getting hexed. He searched his mind for a plan, but a voluble droll interrupted him.

"Please, Potter, you're so weak, I could jinx you with my eyes closed."

"He found me!" Harry's mind groaned, but before he could reply, he heard Malfoy muttering under his breath.

"That one was good, I like that…." Harry could just make out the sound of a quill scratching on parchment, then he heard, "Let's see…how about a 'your mother' one…."

Curiously, Harry poked his head out to watch what was going on. It appeared that Malfoy had been addressing the armor, not him. What's more, he held a small journal in his hand, nearly full of cramped writing. He watched Malfoy stroke his chin, trying to conjure up something.

Harry was hypnotized as his mortal enemy spat out another insult: "You're mother was so fat, Potter, when she jogged in a red outfit, first years thought that they had missed the train." Malfoy laughed very hard at that one, and Harry found himself laughing softly too, simply because it was such a ludicrous thing to say. "Oh, I'm writing that one down for _sure_," Malfoy managed to breathe, wiping a tear from his eye.

Harry, well hidden behind the pillar, knew that Ron and Hermione would want to see this. "I have _got_ to get a camera," Harry thought wildly, and he clambered away, completely forgetting the lunch appointment with his friends.

**

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**Draco Malfoy**

There was no one to make fun of, and as such, Malfoy was bored. He was so bored, in fact, that he had dismissed Crabbe and Goyle so that he could wander the hallways alone.

Without his bodyguards, however, he began to think that exploring Hogwarts wasn't a good idea. What if he met Potter in the hallways unprotected?

The very idea made his lips curl into a sneer. He was confident in his dueling abilities, and if he met Potter, he would be ready to fight. But there was still one thing he needed to practice….

Malfoy halted in front of a suit of armor. He subtly looked both ways down the hall, making sure no one was going to see him. Satisfied, he turned back and stared into his reflection's eyes, glaring to the best of his ability. "Hello, Potter. Fancy meeting you here," he rehearsed in his nastiest jeer. He wasn't quite happy with it, though, and he repeated it, making sure that his reflection was as intimidating as possible. "There, that was better," he said. "Now…." He began to tap his finger on his chin, trying to come up with a good insult.

His face brightened, then he put on a scowl and spat, "Please, Potter, you're so weak, I could jinx you with my eyes closed." He let the words hover for a bit, as though he were savoring it. Finally, he said, "That one was good, I like that…."

From the depths of his robes, he produced a small journal. He allowed no one to touch it, as it was full of rather uncomfortable material — a small notebook nearly filled with Potter insults. He called it "Potty-mouth", and fancied himself quite clever for doing so.

Malfoy quickly scribbled down what he had just said, then rubbed the quill under his chin as he pondered what to do next. "Let's see… how about a 'your mother' one…." He thought for a bit, then inspiration hit him. "You're mother was so fat, Potter, when she jogged in a red outfit, first years thought that they had missed the train."

He laughed outright at that, clutching his side from pain. It took him a minute to get under control, and as he rubbed a tear from his face, he breathed, "Oh, I'm writing that one down for _sure_."

There was a sudden clambering noise and Malfoy whirled just in time to see a robe disappearing. "Potter," he irrationally (yet correctly) concluded, and immediately dashed after him.

Malfoy could see Potter sprinting ahead of him, but he wasn't sure if his mortal enemy knew he was being followed.

With that in mind, Malfoy sped up and turned the corner, and then he realized — why chase after Potter when he could just snitch? He slowed to a stop right in front of Professor Snape's office and chuckled evilly before turning the door knob.

"Professor, Professor, Harry Potter is —" But Malfoy never finished his sentence. He had opened the door on the most unusual scene.

Professor Snape, for one thing, was wearing an apron. It wasn't pink or frilly or anything strange, but he had never worn aprons in Potions class before, so it was odd. Also, the bubbling pot in front of him wasn't surrounded with the usual potions ingredients like wolfsbane or dragon heartstrings, but chicken stock, chopped vegetables and herbs. More frightening still was the look on his potion teacher's face. Snape was chalk white, and it looked like he was ready to kill either himself or Malfoy — maybe even both.

"Professor Snape," Malfoy said very slowly, "I just wanted to say…hello." He paused for a second, but his teacher was still frozen. "Uh, bye then…."

"Hold it, Mr. Malfoy!" He immediately froze in the doorway, and grudgingly turned his eyes towards his teacher. A lengthy paused followed. At one point, a bell went off, but neither Snape nor Malfoy even so much as twitched.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, Snape said, "You will not repeat what you have seen." He ripped off the apron and leaned forward threateningly. "_Never_. If you do…." He was now shaking so hard with fury, he couldn't finish his sentence. It took no stretch of the imagination to guess what would happen to Malfoy if he flapped his mouth in the Slytherin common room.

"Y-y-yes, Professor Snape. Bye." And Malfoy closed the door and hobbled away, still in shock.

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**Professor Severus Snape**

Professor Snape was a highly ambitious man. He had always yearned for the Dark Art Professor's job, that was no small secret. But there was something else he yearned for, something that he had never told another soul about.

He wanted to be a published cook book author.

"Let's see…after letting the vegetables stew for fifteen minutes…the rice should be added next, yes…." He smirked at the soup he had been concocting in his office for the past half-hour. Holidays were the only time he could create recipes without interruption, and he had already created a few savory soups that he was quite proud of. Even now, he was planning what kind of delectable cakes he would make….

His smile widened, and he stared at his cauldron with what was unmistakably glee. "Stir a few times, then let sit for…let's give it four minutes…." He waved his wand and set the timer beside him, then stepped back to scribble down the directions on a piece of parchment entitled "Vegetable Rice Soup".

As he placed his quill in ink, the door suddenly swung open and a young, blonde-haired boy stumbled in, shouting, "Professor, Professor, Harry Potter is —" But his voice caught in his throat as he turned to face Snape. His mouth fell open, but no sound came out, and he stared wide-eyed at his teacher. Finally, as if Snape had gone completely batty, he said very slowly, "Professor Snape, I just wanted to say…hello." He paused for a moment, at a loss for words. "Uh, bye then…."

"Hold it, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape shouted. The boy reluctantly turned back to face him. Snape stared at him for so long, the four minute timer went off without him noticing. When he did speak, his voice was shaking. "You will not repeat what you have seen." He tore the apron off and stashed it behind him. "_Never_. If you do…." He decided not to say what would happen, simply because he could think of no punishment severe enough. It appeared that Malfoy got the picture, though.

"Y-y-yes, Professor Snape," he said, taking a gulp of air. "Bye." The door closed slowly behind him.

Snape was now livid. He had to take out his rage on a student and fast. He rushed into the hallway, looking for someone, anyone.

"You there! You two!" he called down the hallway, stopping two boys in their tracks. As he neared them, however, Snape realized that they were in his house — two boys named Crabbe and Goyle. He'd have to find an excuse as to why he had called them, so he stopped in front of them and tried to look less threatening, a very hard thing to do when your veins are about to burst. "What are you doing in the hallway?"

Confused, Goyle looked around for a second, then cracked his knuckles menacingly at Snape. Crabbe shot him a look, though, and whispered quite loudly, "No, it's a _teacher_." Goyle stopped immediately.

"I said, what are you two doing?" Snape was now getting annoyed, and he started searching the corridor before his eyes fell on a barn owl resting on the floor, looking as perturbed as Snape felt. "What's that owl doing here?"

"Uh…letter," Goyle grunted, motioning to the piece of parchment tied to the owl's leg.

"Well, whose letter? Why is it still in the castle?"

Crabbe and Goyle both shrugged. Now highly annoyed, Snape stooped down and snatched the letter away from the owl, allowing it to fly away. "It says Crabbe on it," he announced, turning the letter over in his hand before offering it to the boy on his right.

"Me?" said Crabbe. "Are you sure?"

Snape was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly collected himself and snapped, "And why wouldn't I be? That's your name, isn't it?"

"I'm not really sure —"

"Of course it is!" Snape hissed, and it appeared for a moment that both the boys looked very relieved. "Are you saying you don't know your own name?"

"Well…." Both of them were starting to look confused again. Snape pressed a hand to his temple. "Never mind. Dismissed." They grunted a thanks and hurried off. Snape found that he was no longer angry, but simply stunned at their blatant idiocy.

"Why do _I_ always get the morons?" he muttered before skulking back into his office.

Needless to say, the soup was ruined.

**

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**Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle**

Crabbe and Goyle had been highly confused ever since Malfoy left them. They had been wandering the hallways, trying to find the Great Hall so they could eat lunch. Unfortunately, they had unwittingly been walking further and further away.

"Where are we?" Goyle moaned, clutching his stomach. He hadn't eaten in two hours, and the pain was beginning to drive him mad.

"Maybe we should go back," Crabbe said, but after thinking for a bit, realized that he didn't know which way was back. "Well, maybe if we keep going on…we'll end up going back…." His voice trailed off, but it apparently made sense to Goyle, because he followed without question.

Soon they found themselves in a completely unfamiliar part of the school, and they slowed to a stop. "Now what?" Crabbe asked, but Goyle didn't hear him because his stomach rumbled loudly. At that time, a barn owl landed at their feet and hooted softly. Attached to its leg was a letter addressed to Crabbe.

"Can you eat owl?" Goyle asked, staring hungrily at the bird. "Wait, whose letter is that on his leg?"

Crabbe stooped down and painstakingly sounded out the name before announcing, "Crabbe."

"That's one of us, right? Which one?"

"I dunno…." They watched the bird for some time as it ruffled its feathers in irritation. "Maybe we should ask someone."

"You there! You two!" Crabbe and Goyle swiveled around to see Professor Snape angrily advancing on them. "What are you doing in the hallway?"

Goyle, unsure of how to react, glowered and cracked his knuckles, but stopped when Crabbe whispered, "No, it's a _teacher_."

"I said, what are you two doing?" Snape spat. Then he saw the barn owl on the floor. "What's that owl doing here?"

Goyle mumbled, "Uh…letter," and pointed at the envelope tied to its leg. If the owl could, it would've probably rolled its eyes.

"Well, whose letter? Why is it still in the castle?" The boys both shrugged as Snape untied the letter from the owl's leg. It flew away with a grateful hoot. "It says Crabbe on it," he read before handing it to the boy on his right.

"Me?" asked Crabbe, amazed. "Are you sure?"

"And why wouldn't I be? That's your name, isn't it?"

"I'm not really sure —"

"Of course it is!" Snape snapped at him. Crabbe and Goyle sighed in relief, but Snape raised an eyebrow at them. "Are you saying you don't know your own name?"

"Well…." They glanced at each other, but before they could continue, Snape uttered, "Never mind. Dismissed." Giving an appreciative grunt, Crabbe and Goyle dashed away.

"Where should we open the letter?"

"The Great Hall!"

With all the confusion, they had forgotten they didn't know where the Great Hall was, so they ran through the hallways for a bit before eventually deciding upon a nearby empty classroom.

Except it wasn't empty.

Inside, they saw two identical boys, unmistakably Weaselys, drinking a cup of tea each, and Peeves the Poltergeist hovering above them, chomping on a cake. Crabbe and Goyle stopped in their tracks, and the three classroom occupants turned and stared back.

Suddenly Peeves swooped down and knocked over a nearby desk, making Crabbe and Goyle start.

"He's gone barmy!" one of the Weaselys cried loudly, protecting himself from an onslaught of chalk pieces with the silver platter. "We caught him in here having an afternoon tea party by himself!" Crabbe's and Goyle's jaws dropped as the other Weasley took a tea pot to the head.

"What should we do?" Crabbe yelped, leaping behind Goyle as tea cup shards flew towards them. Nearby, one of the Weasleys dodged a pile of flying books and cried, "Run mates!" As he went for his wand, Peeves started throwing crumpets at him. "We'll hold — ouch, my ear — him off!"

He didn't have to say it twice. Crabbe and Goyle bolted, tripping over each other as they dashed down the hallway. They ran as long as they could, and when they finally stopped, they found themselves in the Great Hall. They plopped down thankfully at the Slytherin table and began gorging themselves, completely forgetting about the scene that had just witnessed in the "abandoned" classroom.

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**Fred and George Weasley**

Fred and George had left early from Quiddich practice, claiming that they had an appointment — and they did, although not with a teacher. They had recently begun meeting secretly to exchange prank ideas, secret passageway locations, and so forth with none other than Peeves.

"You think that Filch would fall for that?" George asked conversationally, pouring himself some more tea.

"I dunno…I think Peeves is right." Fred took a huge bite of cake and added, "He ne'er nofices anufin."

"Of course I'm right! I just need a diversion to set it up." Peeves was hovering upside-down, munching loudly on crumpets.

"We'll do it tomorrow, then, ten thirty." Peeves and George shook on it, but just then, loud footsteps announced the arrival of unwelcome guests. Fred, George and Peeves whirled to see Crabbe and Goyle stumble into the room. They all stared unblinkingly at each other for a few moments, then Peeves swooped down and knocked over a desk.

"He's gone barmy!" Fred shouted, getting the hint. He whispered "play along" to George as he grabbed the tea tray to protect himself from the chalk Peeves was chucking at him. "We caught him in here having an afternoon tea party by himself!" Fred yelled to the intruders. Peeves promptly dropped the teapot on George's head.

"What should we do?" one yelled, dodging stray bits of china. George evaded a pile of books rocket towards his head and howled, "Run, mates!" Peeves started pelting him with crumpets as he grabbed his wand. "We'll hold — ouch, my ear — him off!"

The two didn't wait around. They pushed past each other, scrambling down the hallway as quickly as they could.

As soon as they were out of sight, Fred heaved a sigh of relief and dropped the tea tray with a clatter. "Whew! Close one!"

"At least they're too dense to figure out what they just saw, the gits," George said lightly, ruffling his hair to get rid of the crumpet pieces. "Imagine what Filch would do if he caught us plotting."

Peeves cackled. "We should get seen more often. That was fun!"

"Same time next week?" George added as he stepped over the broken tea kettle. Peeves blew a raspberry, which meant yes, and zoomed down the hallway, rattling suits of armor as he went. Fred and George headed back towards the common room, chatting mildly as students scurried by.

As they came to a stop in front of the portrait, they could hear muffled shouts from inside. "What's that noise?" George asked the fat lady.

"I try not to pay too much attention to what goes on here," she replied with a twinkle in her eye. "If I did, you two would have been expelled five times over."

"Aw, we love you, too," Fred grinned. "_Ratolorum_." The portrait swung forward and the twins hastily clambered in to see who was making the noise. What they saw upon their entry, however, surprised both of them.

It was Ron and Hermione.

Fred and George both grinned inwardly at the sight of their baby brother lying on the ground with her, both of them slightly dazed. They had expected something like this to happen, but they didn't know that they would witness it.

"What's going on in here?" Fred said. "We heard a ruckus from the hallway."

With a jerk, Ron shoved Hermione off of him and practically flew to his feet. "Er — nothing," he stammered, turning pink. "We were doing homework…and I, er —"

"You weren't having it off, were you?" George asked playfully.

"SHUT UP, GEORGE!" Ron shouted. Both twins noted that his ears were now bright red.

"I just wanted to know if I had to send an owl to mum," George said back lightly. "She likes to know what her ickle Ronniekins is doing at school." Ron flushed even more now, but neither Fred nor George could tell if it was still embarrassment, or if it was just anger.

Hermione suddenly spoke up. "Oh, come off it." She pushed herself off the ground and glared at them, as if she could make them feel shame. "Now I'd like to finish my Potions essay before Harry gets back, if you don't _mind_."

"Oh, if we don't mind," Fred mimicked instantly. "I believe we don't mind at all, do we George?"

"Of course not, Fred. I don't mind at all. Do you?"

"Not in the least!" Ignoring them, Hermione stumbled back to the table and began scratching more down on her parchment.

Fred and George grinned at each other before they continued on their way, making sure to pat their little brother on the head and give him a suggestive wink before they climbed the stairs to their room.

**

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**Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger**

"I just don't understand," Ron sighed as he finished his ninth centimeter, "how Snape expects us to write twelve inches about _wormwood_. I mean, it's not like we use it all the time in Potions or anything."

Hermione hushed him. "Let me finish this sentence, I'm almost done." Mumbling something nasty about Snape, Ron dipped his quill into more ink and let it hover over his page, his tongue poking out slightly as he tried to think of something else to say.

The two of them were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for Harry to finish Quiddich practice before they went to lunch. Much to Ron's vexation, Hermione had insisted that they work on their Potions homework while they waited, claiming that since Harry already finished his, she and Ron were behind on their holiday assignments. When Ron pointed out that they had already finished multiple other assignments Harry hadn't touched, she ignored him.

"Do you think Snape would notice if I wrote the school song in here? That should give me another inch or so…."

"I don't think I would try it," Hermione replied without looking up.

Ron sighed and stared at the fire for a few seconds. "Say, Hermione," he finally started again, "do you think you could —" and then his voice caught in his throat.

"I could what?" she asked, scratching down the end of her sentence. Ron didn't reply, although she heard some kind of a squeak. "Ron?" She glanced up from her parchment and saw a terrified look on his face. It seemed like his eyes might just fall out, they were open so wide. "What is it?"

"Sp-p-pider," he stammered, trying to scoot back in his seat as he pointed towards his parchment. After a moment searching, Hermione saw a tiny bug, smaller than her fingernail, scurrying across the page.

"Oh, Ron, _do_ try to control yourself," she said lightly, trying to brush the spider aside. Instead, it hopped out of her hand's path and started scurrying even closer to Ron, who yelped.

"Get it away, Hermione! Kill it!"

"I'm _not_ going to kill a harmless spider." She tried brushing it away once more, but it managed to evade her hand again. It was now closing in on Ron at a rapid pace.

"It's not harmless! Look at it!" Desperate, Ron jumped to his feet and tried to hide behind Hermione. The spider, however, changed its direction and started heading towards them. "I think it's got it in for me!"

"Don't be silly, Ron."

"It's coming Hermione! Do something!"

"Stop pulling on my robes, or I'm going to fall!"

"Quick! I think it's gaining!"

"Ron, watch where you're—" But it was too late. Ron tripped over a footrest and fell straight back, bringing Hermione down with him.

At that particular moment, Fred and George climbed in through the portrait hole. They paused curiously as they saw Ron and Hermione lying on the floor, both groaning slightly.

"What's going on in here?" Fred asked slyly. "We heard a ruckus from the hallway."

Ron quickly pushed Hermione off of him and scrambled to his feet. "Er — nothing. We were doing homework…and I, er —"

"You weren't having it off, were you?"

"SHUT UP, GEORGE!" Ron bellowed, his ears turning a flaming red.

George tried to look innocent. "I just wanted to know if I had to send an owl to mum. She likes to know what her ickle Ronniekins is doing at school." The red on Ron's ears traveled to his cheeks, and he began to resemble a very angry strawberry.

"Oh, come off it," Hermione said haughtily, pushing herself off the ground. "Now I'd like to finish my Potions essay before Harry gets back, if you don't _mind_."

"Oh, if we don't mind," Fred said, matching Hermione's voice. "I believe we don't mind at all, do we George?"

"Of course not, Fred. I don't mind at all. Do you?"

"Not in the least!" It was Hermione's turn to flush, but she hid her face by rushing back to the table and busying herself with her parchment.

Ron glowered as his two brothers patted him on the head and winked at him before they made their way upstairs. "I hate holidays," he finally muttered before plopping down next to Hermione to finish his essay.


End file.
